


Don't Need You To Fix Me

by keep_waking_up



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!Dean, Alpha!Sam, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Drunkenness, F/M, Knotting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_waking_up/pseuds/keep_waking_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, they always thought Sam would be an Omega.  And then he wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Need You To Fix Me

**Author's Note:**

> For the abo-bigbang over at LJ. Art by forhimxx, which you can see over there.

For some reason, they’d always thought Sammy would end up an Omega. 

It made sense. At fourteen, he was still smaller than most of the kids his age. Out of the three Winchesters, Sam was the odd one out. Self-contained and somewhat reserved, Sam was more prone to being quietly passive-aggressive than outright confrontational. When they were younger, Dean would lash out physically when he got mad. When Sam got angry, he would glare silently, and the next day Dean would wake up to discover his favorite toy smashed to pieces.

It wasn’t that Sam seemed particularly submissive; in fact, the idea of Omegas being naturally submissive was an outdated one. He and Dean were so different that when Dean popped his knot a few days before he turned fifteen, it seemed obvious that Sam would turn out Omega.

Because they came from an Alpha-Omega mating, it was impossible for either of them to turn out Beta. So no one in the family was surprised when Dean’s knot appeared. His dad let out a rare grin when Dean told him the news and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s my boy,” he said, and shared a bottle of whiskey with his eldest in celebration, while Sam made huffy noises in a corner.

When Sam’s fifteenth birthday was approaching, things went very differently. John and Sam went out on a rare expedition together, and Sam came back beat red. He raced to his room and slammed the door behind him before Dean could ask what was wrong. Dean blinked and turned to see his father walking wearily into the room, pink plastic bag held in one hand. Blood flushed Dean’s own cheeks as he realized what it was. “Heat supplies?” he croaked out. “You took him out to get heat supplies?”

Dean wasn’t the only one in the room blushing. John scrubbed a hand against the back of his neck as the skin under his beard turned pink. “I just thought he should be prepared. Should be any time soon.”

It really was a foregone conclusion that Sam would turn out an Omega. Even Sam thought so, as evidenced by the fact that the pink bag took a discreet spot under his bed within a few days. Which was why Dean was startled to hear a strangled yelp coming from the shower one morning. 

Instantly on alert, he burst into the bathroom and waved his hand as steam billowed into his face. “Sam?” he asked anxiously. “You okay?”

“Dean…” Sam’s shocked voice didn’t reassure him any and he blinked as the steam cleared from in front of him so he could see. There was his scrawny little brother in the shower, naked as the day he was born, gaping down at his dick. He turned his gaze to Dean frantically. “Dean, is this normal?”

Moving closer, Dean’s eyes dropped automatically to Sam’s cock, not yet all the way grown. It was still a boy’s cock, not a man’s, but if the knot on Sam’s dick was any indication, it wouldn’t remain so very long.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed. “You’re an Alpha, Sammy.”

“No shit,” Sam whimpered as his hand clenched around his knot, almost as if it was against his will. “I was just… and it appeared. Holy fuck—” 

He flung his head back and brought his teeth together with a snap. Dean immediately realized what exactly his little brother must’ve been doing to discover the knot on his dick and turned bright red. “Right. Well. I’ll just…” He gestured needlessly at the door. Sam wasn’t looking at him anyway. “Right. Leaving.” He stumbled out, yelling, “Congratulations!” over his shoulder before escaping not only the bathroom, but the bedroom as well. 

Flinging himself into the only kitchen chair that didn’t wobble, he ran a hand over his face. So Sam was an Alpha. It wasn’t that big a deal, and he could see Sam as an Alpha just as well as he could see him as an Omega. He’d grow into it. Obviously. So there wasn’t anything to feel weird about. Nothing at all.

He nodded to himself, and then picked up the phone, dialing in the new number John had given him. The phone rang seven times before getting voicemail. He cleared his throat and smiled, even though no one was there to see it. “Hey, Dad. Interesting news.”

When John got home, he brought a bottle of whiskey with him. “Congrats, Sammy,” he said, beaming down at the boy doing homework on the kitchen table. 

Sam looked up at him, expression inscrutable, before turning back to the book in front of him. “I can’t drink tonight. I’ve got homework.”

Where Sam couldn’t see it, John’s grin faltered and his shoulders slumped in. “Sure, Sammy. Whatever you need. We can do it some other time.”

“Yeah,” Sam answered absentmindedly and flipped a page. For a moment, that seemed like all he was going to say, and then he looked up with a tight smile. “And it’s Sam.”

 

*

 

After he popped his knot, it seemed like all Sam did was grow. Dean had to leave on a hunt with John for two weeks just before Sam’s sixteenth birthday. It felt like he left behind his kid brother and came back to sullen, gangly teenager whose bitch-glares held a whole new weight now. Puberty for Sam was misery. He snapped at everyone and everything, as if his knot had been all he needed to realize he was better than everything they had. Sam had complained about their life before, but it was nothing compared to the tirades of his sixteenth and seventeenth years. 

He finally calmed down a little in his senior year of high school. Fully grown, although not completely filled in, he seemed slightly more comfortable with himself. The day Dean found he had to look up at his little brother, he was struck with the idea that he used to be able to tuck this kid under his arm. He’d never be able to do that again. Why hadn’t he cherished that? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d held Sammy—Sam—like that. The last time, he hadn’t even realized that it would be the last. He’d thought he’d always be able to tuck Sam into him, away from the world. He’d thought Sam would always be his to defend. Well, Sam had proved he didn’t need any defending. He was an Alpha, and perfectly capable of defending himself.

Which was why Dean wasn’t surprised when Sam pulled out his admittance letter to Stanford late one summer night.

They were at a cheap motel somewhere in Nevada, chasing after a Rugaru on the run. John had maps spread out over the table, biting on the end of a pen as they tried to predict where it would run next. Dean was helping him. Sam was in the shower. He’d been even more prissy and remote the last few weeks, prone to long silences followed by low snappish comments. The instant they got to the motel, Sam had stormed into the bathroom, and it wasn’t long before Dean could hear the harsh patter of the shower running.

Dean sent a wary, questioning look John’s way. The older man just sighed, running a grizzled hand over his face. “He’s still young. Now that he’s graduated, he’ll settle into things. You’ll see.” 

Dean had been doubtful, but he’d kept his silence, instead tracing on the map the thin black line that Sam had drawn with a careful hand just a few days ago.

When Sam came out of the shower, he was fully dressed, like they were about to leave again. His chin was set, his expression mulish, and Dean’s stomach dropped. That face didn’t mean anything good.

Sam slapped an envelope onto the table, right over the black line of the Rugaru’s path. “I’m going,” he said, with no other explanation. Under his hand, Dean could just make out the elegant script of the word ‘Stanford’ and it felt like something was squeezing his heart. “I have to be there in a few days.”

Everything was still for a few moments, and then John set his beer bottle down on the table with a soft clink. His voice was equally soft, but infinitely deadlier. “What’s this, Sam?”

Sam straightened his spine, and Dean noticed how much he towered over both of them. He felt small, insignificant, in Sam’s wake. “College,” Sam answered. “A really fucking good one too. I got in, with a full ride. And I’m going to go.”

“No you aren’t,” John said firmly, and reached for the envelope, but Sam snatched it out of his reach.

“You can’t stop me,” Sam said, and he sounded so sure of himself, so unlike the kid that used to look to Dean for everything. “I already told them I’m going. I’ve got tickets for a Greyhound that leaves in the morning if you won’t take me. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Watch it, boy,” John growled, stepping around the table towards Sam. “You remember who you’re talking to.”

“Oh, I remember.” Sam laughed bitterly. “Believe me, I wish I didn’t. Most dads are happy when their kids get full rides to nearly Ivy League schools, you know.”

John’s fists were clenched into balls. “How can you even think about leaving? This is your duty, Sam! You know the truth, but you want to run off to some school and abandon it all?”

“I want to be normal,” Sam hissed, and held his ground even as John snarled back at him. “I don’t want anything to do with this life. The way you brought us up… It’s fucking bullshit and I don’t want anything to do with it. So I’m leaving.”

“No, you aren’t!”

“You aren’t my Alpha!” Sam yelled, and his face was red and the veins in his neck stood out. Dean had never wanted to see Sam’s face like that. “You aren’t my Alpha. You’re just my Dad, and not much of that either. There’s nothing you can say to stop me.”

They stood, locked in their own deadly staring contest, for a minute that felt like eternity. Dean swallowed and swayed where he stood. Finally, John broke the silence, his voice low and cold. “You step out that door, don’t you bother coming back.”

There was a moment where everything seemed to hang on the edge, and then Sam spat out, “Fine.” He grabbed his duffel and slammed out the door, leaving without a second glance.

John seemed frozen where he stood, but Dean felt a tug on his sternum and went rushing out the door. “Sam!” he called, and he could still see his brother, stomping down the block. On hearing Dean’s voice, he turned and stopped. Waiting.

Dean jogged to catch up with him and skidded to a stop in front of him. “Sam,” he said, and the name was a plea and a hope all at once.

Sam just stared down at him, face tight with left-over rage. “I’m not going back. You can’t make me either.”

“I’m not—” Dean shook his head, cutting himself off. “You know I’m not like that. I’m not gonna… Sam, he didn’t mean it.”

“Yes, he did,” Sam said calmly, and snorted. “You know he did just as well as I do. You can’t make excuses for him forever, Dean.”

“Don’t fucking talk like that.” He glared up at his little brother, and reached out, as if he could just pull Sam back in. “He was just angry. You know how he gets. If you apologize—”

Sam laughed again, and it was the ugliest sound Dean had ever heard. “If I apologize? You’ve got to be kidding me, Dean.” He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I want to go to school; that’s a fucking good thing. And if he can’t see that, it’s his problem, not mine.”

“Okay, okay, we can work this out,” Dean blathered, but he could see Sam getting further away with each word. In desperation, he stepped in, fisting his hands in the collar of Sam’s jacket. “Sam, we can work something out. I know you want more than this. We can figure something out. I can figure out some way to give you more. There are options, Sam.” He tugged on the fabric in between his fists, knowing he reeked of desperation, but unable to stop. “Sammy—”

“It’s Sam,” Sam corrected him, the retort instinctive at this point, but to Dean it seemed like a solid refusal of everything he’d offered. And, from the way Sam was looking at him, maybe it was. Dean stumbled back a step, pushed away by words that shouldn’t have hurt, but did. 

Sam looked at him for a minute, streetlight illuminating his face, before he was leaning in. Confused, Dean stood still, even as his little brother’s lips descended on his.

It wasn’t even a real kiss, just a meeting of lips on lips. But it took Dean’s breath away for all the wrong reasons.

Pulling back, Sam smiled at him, self-derision shining outwards. “Bye Dean,” he said and turned around and walked away. Dean stood, frozen just like his father inside the motel, and watched him go.

 

*

 

There were some things Dean could get over. His father not being around as much, failing to save the last girl the Rugaru hunted, being accused of being crazy by the one girl he’d thought he’d loved… he moved on. Dean was a master at locking those things into the little box in his subconscious that told him he was a failure, and never looking at them again. He didn’t need to look at that part of him, the shadows that lurked within his mind. He brushed them aside. He moved on.

His brother deliberately leaving him on that cold street block in Nevada wasn’t something he could move on from. 

It sat heavy in his mind, trailing after him like his shadow. He had asked Sam to stay. He had practically begged. He’d offered his everything. And Sam had looked at him and decided that wasn’t good enough. Dean remembered that every time he looked over his shoulder and Sam wasn’t there.

The only thing he did repress was the memory of chapped lips on his. It haunted him sometimes, when he flirted with tall, young Omega boys in local bars. They’d tilt their head a certain way, and he’d see a flash of Sam leaning closer. Then he’d shake his head, reminding himself that Sam was gone, and an Alpha besides.

Two Alphas didn’t have sex. Neither did two Omegas, really, except in shady pornos for the kinky. Alphas were with Betas and Omegas. So why would Sam kiss him? What would bring his brother to break not only the incest taboo, but that one as well?

He couldn’t understand why Sam had kissed him. So he tried his best to forget.

Dean kept fucking whatever pretty Betas or Omegas caught his eye and hunting whatever dregs of evil he could find. And he was fine, he was okay—until his dad went missing.

 

*

 

The last time Dean had heard from John, he’d been headed to southern California to take care of a spirit. Dean called five days later to check in and John didn’t pick up. Dean shrugged it off; John didn’t like to be distracted in the middle of a hunt anyways. So he called again three days later, and two days after that. No one answered. Then he got worried.

He mulled it over for the few days it took him to drive to California. He could head straight to Jericho. He beat down the fear in his gut at the idea. Instinctively, he knew this was much worse than a hunt gone wrong. His dad wouldn't be out of contact for so long unless it was something bad. And, damn it, he didn’t want to go into that alone.

The Impala seemed to steer itself to Palo Alto all on its own. Maybe she felt a pull towards Sam too.

Dean’s hands were shaking slightly as he jimmied open the lock on Sam’s door. He didn’t really have a plan. He knew if he’d knocked, Sam wouldn’t have answered. It was too late, and even if Sam had opened the door, Dean was more likely to get the door slammed in his face than an invitation inside. So, he’d break in, find Sam, and then…

Well, he’d always been better at winging it anyways.

Sam’s apartment was small, but neat. There was something indescribably Sam about it; maybe it was the small bookcase filled to the brim by the window, or the notebook open on the kitchen counter. Dean traced Sam’s neat, curved letters on the page. He could remember back when that same hand had not created letters nearly as neat, Sam nearly biting through his lip as he painstakingly carved the initials of his name into the Impala.

That image was still at the forefront of his mind when Sam attacked him. It made him stumble back for a moment, before he realized that this older Sam had no idea who he was. And wasn’t that a sharp blow? When they were kids, Dean could’ve identified Sam by a finger, or the top of his head. But now, Sam had no idea who he was.

The anger he felt at that idea gave him the drive to pin Sam on his back. His brother growled and then his eyes popped open wide. “Dean?”

Well, Dean thought as he looked down at his brother’s startled face, at least Sam still remembered his name.

 

*

 

Dean’s first thought when he saw Jess was that she looked strong for a Beta. Not that Beta’s couldn’t be strong; many were, in fact. But there was something about the way Jess held herself, as if she could knock the world to its knees if she really wanted to try, that screamed ‘Alpha’ to Dean, even though the rest of his senses told him that was wrong.

She walked them out to the car when they left. She didn’t speak to Dean, but she gave Sam a long kiss, fingers pressing into the small of his back. “Come back as soon as you can,” she told Sam, and then said, to both of them as they got into the car, “Take care.” But her eyes were fixed on Dean and they held a plea and a threat in them. Dean used to look at people like that when he had to entrust Sam to them. He gazed into the green of Jess’s eyes and shivered.

“She seems nice,” he told Sam once they were fifteen minutes out of Palo Alto. Already, it seemed natural to look to his right and see Sam there. Or maybe it had never stopped being unnatural to have him missing. “And she’s gorgeous,” he added, when Sam seemed disinclined to say anything. “How’d you manage to swing that?”

Instead of answering, Sam just hunched his shoulders in further. “I’m tired,” he said, even though Dean could see he was strung tight as a bow. He was glaring out the window like the highway had wronged him somehow. “I’m gonna try to sleep. Okay?”

It wasn’t really a question, but Dean answered anyways. “Yeah, sure. I’ll put some soft rock on.” He had a flash of five-year-old Sam drooling on his shoulder, then blinked it away. “We can talk about your hot girlfriend later.”

“Jess,” Sam said, and Dean nearly jolted in his seat at the tone. It was the exact same voice Sam had always used to correct them when they’d called him Sammy. “Her name is Jess,” Sam repeated firmly, and then closed his eyes, shutting Dean out once again.

 

*

 

During the hunt, Sam seemed to relax a little. It took less than a day for them to fall into their old rhythm, something Dean had never been able to recreate with any of the numerous substitutes he’d tried. It wasn’t just that Sam fell back some, letting Dean take the lead without letting him be in charge. It was more the way that Sam managed to fill in his blanks. Anything Dean forgot, Sam remembered. Sam asked questions Dean wouldn’t have thought of. Sam, still, after all this time, understood what a tilt of his head or a shrug of his shoulders meant. They just fit.

Dean was even slightly celebratory as he he drove Sam back to Palo Alto. Sure, he had to take Sam back and continue on his own, but Sam wanted to keep in touch. Sam wanted him to call. Sam might meet up with him later, if he could. Slowly, but surely, Dean might be able to win his brother back.

All of those dreams burned away in the same fire Jess did. Dean had his brother back, but not the way he wanted him.

They had to stay in town for a week after her death, for the funeral. Sam stayed with Dean at his motel. The first few days, he didn’t speak, didn’t cry. Just stared at the wall for long periods of time, nails biting into his palms. The day before the funeral was the first time Sam said anything since That Night, and only then because he was drunk.

Where Sam got the liquor from, Dean wasn’t sure. He didn’t have a car, and other than a meeting with Jess’s parents, Sam hadn’t left the motel. But Dean came back from a dinner run that night and found Sam sprawled across his bed, absolutely smashed.

“Dean,” he drawled sloppily, mouth pulling up at one corner. He slumped lower on the bed with a wrecked laugh. “Such a good Alpha, getting food. You gonna provide for me, big brother?” 

Self-consciously, Dean tightened his grip on the plastic bag he held, laden with Chinese take-out. The urge to take care of Sam, to be an Alpha for Sam, had come back so quickly he hadn’t even noticed it, until Sam had pointed it out in his loose, mocking voice. Sam wasn’t normally a mean drunk, but grief did funny things to people.

He slung the bag down on the tilting table and busied himself pulling out the food. “Where’d you get the booze?” he asked, hoping Sam wouldn’t notice the tightness in his jaw.

There was movement from Sam’s side of the room, but Dean refused to look. “Some friends stopped by. Left it with me. Thought it would help.” Sam paused, and then he laughed again. “Guess none of them had an alcoholic for a parent. Or they’d know it never helps.”

“Dad’s not an alcoholic,” Dean snapped, and took a deep breath. He pushed a carton of sweet and sour chicken in Sam’s direction, before grabbing a box of chow-mein for himself. “Eat something. And drink some water.”

“So good to me, Dean,” Sam purred, and Dean felt sick from the toxicity that ran through those words. “I treat you like shit for three years; you beg me to stay. I’m nasty to you and you give me food and water. Guess not much has changed.” Sam paused again and Dean could feel him at his back. “Only one thing you wouldn’t do for me, and that’s why I left.”

Not bothering to move, Dean swallowed the food that had gotten rotten in his mouth and spat back, “You’re not some kind of abusive asshole, so you can stop talking to me like I’m your battered wife. You’re drunk as fuck and I don’t want to hear it.” He grabbed the box of chicken and spun around to slam it into Sam’s chest. “Eat,” he commanded gruffly, before stomping over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Not a wife, right,” Sam mumbled, stumbling as he threw the food back down on the table. “Wouldn’t want to be associated with anything like that, anything weak. Not big Alpha Dean. No, that’d be me. I’m the weak one. Wasn’t even supposed to be an Alpha, was I?”

Dean slammed the chow-mein down on the bedside table. “What the fuck are you even talking about Sam? I don’t even… You’re being fucking crazy right now!”

Rage raced across Sam’s face, followed with a darkness Dean had never imagined could fit Sam’s face. And then he was throwing himself at Dean, hands grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and reeling him in. 

Their second kiss was nothing like their first. Sam’s lips pressed forcefully down onto Dean’s and his tongue shoved its way into his mouth like he had a right to it. It was the kiss of an Alpha, demanding submission, and Dean fought back with every panicked bit he had.

He shoved Sam off of him momentarily, only to get slammed back down onto the mattress. “What the fuck, Sam?” he yelled, thrashing under his brother and kicking out desperately.

“I hate you!” Sam screamed, and he was crying now, hot angry tears hitting Dean’s face. “I fuck hate you, all your fucking fault, hate you—”

Fear surging up in his mind, Dean took a wild swing. His fist connected with the side of Sam’s face and his brother crumpled, falling off to the side. Dean remained still for a minute, sucking in a few quick breaths, before pressing fumbling fingers to Sam’s face. He only relaxed when he’d confirmed that Sam was breathing normally and that his pulse was even. Light-headed, he tugged Sam up until he was settled comfortably on the bed. Then he slumped back on his own bed, breathing still uneven. It took him a long time to get to sleep.

The next day, Sam refused to look at him. Anything he said was monosyllabic. They dressed for the funeral in black and silence. Throughout the service, Dean felt like he was standing next to his shadow.

They left the day after that for Black Ridge, Colorado.

Sam’s mood persisted for most of the ride. He didn’t speak at all, not even when Dean asked whether he wanted something to eat. He just gazed contemplatively out the window, occasionally furrowing his brow at something he’d thought. It was dark by the time he turned to look at Dean.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” Sam said quietly, calmly. “I shouldn’t have said all of that to you.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder brusquely, keeping his eyes on the road. “Whatever. You were upset. It happens. Don’t worry about it.”

“I hate when you do that,” Sam said, his whole body stiffening. Dean bit at the inside of his mouth, resisting the urge to turn and smooth away the hurt edges to Sam’s voice. “It’s not nothing. You can’t just brush it away. You—” Sam cut himself off and took an audible breath before he continued. “Are you ever going to ask?”

“Ask what?” Dean said, even as dread curdled in his stomach.

Sam spoke in a low, soft voice. “Why I said what I said. What I meant by it. Why I…” He trailed off and then continued in an even lower voice. “Why I kissed you.”

The Impala swerved a little in her lane, like she too had been shaken by Sam’s words. Even though Dean had known they were coming, they still blindsided him, like a truck coming in from his blind-spot. He’d hoped… He didn’t know what he had hoped. That Sam wouldn’t bring it up? That the kiss had just been a fever dream? He knew better than to believe either of those things: it was real and Sam had never had a scab he didn’t pick at.

Sam seemed to take his silence as some sort of answer. “I guess not,” he said softly, with a self-depreciating smile. “You were probably hoping that if you just kept your mouth shut, it would go away.” There was quiet again, as if Sam wanted Dean to say something. But his mouth was dry and he couldn’t think of the words.

Nodding, almost to himself, Sam laughed a little. And said, “Did you know I actually wanted to be an Omega?”

Dean’s head snapped to the side, and he saw all of Sam’s face for the first time in what seemed like days. “What?”

A wistful smile stretched across Sam’s face as he stared out the front window. “Yeah. I was so upset the day I found out I was an Alpha. I cried for an hour or so in the shower. I was miserable.”

Dean shook his head, as if that could dismiss the idea from Sam’s mind. “Why the hell…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, so he settled for, “Why?”

Sam laughed again, not to Dean, but to himself. He ran a hand through his hair. “I thought… I saw the way you looked at them. The other Omegas. How you treated them. All soft and precious, but… you wanted them. You were all sweet and caring on the outside, but your eyes looked like you wanted to devour them. And I just wanted you to devour me.” Sam didn’t blush or duck his head. He talked like he was in a dream. “I knew we were brothers, so it would be difficult to make you feel the same way. But if I was an Omega… at least there’d be a chance.” He let out a long, gusty sigh. “And then I turned out Alpha. And I knew you’d never look at me that way… And what kind of Alpha was I anyways, wanting you? I was just… I was all kinds of fucked up.”

Only in the last few sentences did agitation enter Sam’s voice. He took a few deep breaths, caving into himself a little, and ran his hands over his face. Even mostly frozen with shock, Dean felt the need to reach out to him, to comfort. “Sam—”

“Don’t!” Sam snapped, and took another deep breath. “I don’t need your pity, Dean.” There was stillness for a minute, and then he slumped back into his seat with his eyes closed. “Jess knew.”

“What?” Dean asked again, confused. He felt like he’d been thrown around instead of just listening to Sam talk. He felt battered.

Sam waved a hand between the two of them wearily. “About how I felt about you. How I thought something was wrong with me. Those things. I told her that was why I left.”

Dean’s heart clenched in his chest. “Was it?”

There was a pause, as if Sam was weighing his answer. “Partly,” he said gently. “I wasn’t lying when I spoke to Dad. I needed to get out of that whole world as well. It was… toxic for me. At the time… well, I thought maybe the way I felt about you was because of the way we lived.”

“It’s not?” Dean asked, not knowing what answer he was hoping for. Did he want Sam to just be irrevocably fucked up or did he want to know he was the one that had fucked Sam up? He felt nauseous at the thought of either.

“No,” Sam said, without a hesitation, “It’s not. I’m sorry.” Despite the conversation, he seemed more relaxed than Dean had seen him since… before he’d popped his knot, probably. He was even smiling again. “Jess… She made me feel less bad. She knew, but she didn’t think I needed to be… fixed. She said love was inherently good, no matter the type, so the way I loved you couldn’t possibly be wrong. Love was only bad when someone used it to justify hurting someone else.” Sam’s voice shrank, and his face went somber again as he looked down at his hands in his lap. “She wouldn’t have liked what I did the other night.”

“Sam… I…” Dean couldn’t get anything out. The car, normally such a safe place, felt like it was trapping him. He needed space to breathe, to think, to process.

“I know,” Sam said, and Dean wanted to hit himself for putting that sad little smile on Sam’s face. “I won’t bring it up again. I just wanted you to know.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

 

*

 

Dean spent the next couple of weeks turning the conversation over in his mind. When he wasn’t hunting, that is. Sam didn’t seem at all affected. He carried on as usual, still grieving Jess, still being a bitch and throwing hissy fits about Dad. And if Dean occasionally caught him looking sideways with more than brotherly fondness, well, he ignored it.

He didn’t sleep with anyone. It felt unfair somehow, to go off and spend the night with some Beta or Omega, and leave Sam alone at whatever sleazy motel they were staying in. The few times he even contemplated it, he’d look over and see Sam watching, with a mournful, resigned kind of expression on his face. And that stopped him from doing anything.

The thing was, Sam still treated him like his brother. He still bitched and moaned and groaned. Dean still gave him a hard time. It wasn’t like their relationship had changed, and Dean just didn’t understand that. If Sam wanted him, really wanted him, there’d be some sort of sign. He’d be able to tell. Sam wouldn’t keep acting like Dean was his irritating older brother. He’d be trying to, to woo him or some crap. But he wasn’t.

It had all been so out of the blue. Although maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe if he looked back, he’d see the clues stacking up and realize it’d been coming for a long time. But as a rule, Dean didn’t look back. So all he saw was that one day Sam was his annoying little brother and one day his annoying little brother was in love with him.

Why him? Why, out of all the people in the world, would Sam possibly pick him?

Dean wasn’t an idiot. He knew he was hot. He used that on a daily basis. But Sam didn’t go for people just because they were hot. There were plenty of extremely hot Omegas and Betas throwing themselves all over Sam wherever they went, and he didn’t blink an eye at them. But he looked at Dean like he was pulling the sun up. And that was just incomprehensible. 

Once he’d met Becky and Zach, he understood even less. Both Betas, they’d been an attractive enough duo. Zach had been a little preoccupied with being accused of murdering his girlfriend, but even with all that, Dean had still caught a whiff of arousal from the Beta when he laid eyes on Sam. Becky hadn’t been nearly so subtle, although she’d restrained herself from pursuing anything in acknowledgment of Sam’s grief.

Dean didn’t get it.

Of course, he didn’t have much time to think about his brother’s sexual preferences before the shapeshifter was taking on his form and attempting to murder Becky. A few hours later, he was looking down at his own dead body, which was surreal to say the least. It took a while for him to shake that off enough to resume worrying about Sam.

“Dean,” Sam said when they were around five hours out from St. Louis. “Are you okay? We’ve been driving in silence for hours.”

They didn’t really do silence. Whether it was music or conversation or the sound of the wind when the windows were down, the Impala was always filled with a low thrum of noise. But Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a sound. He shook his head and refocused on the road. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Imagining your funeral?” Sam asked, a dark humor in his voice. Dean was momentarily confused before he vaguely recalled joking about it, back when he was still stuck on the image of his own dead face.

He swallowed. “No,” he said sharply, and sighed when he saw hurt burst across Sam’s face. “No,” he repeated more calmly, “I was just thinking about your friends.” It was close enough to the truth.

“Oh,” Sam said, bemusement coloring his voice. “They’re really grateful for your help. Especially ‘cause you, uh…”

“Got myself legally dead? Yeah.” Dean filled in and snorted. “Whatever. It’s not that big a deal.”

“It sort of is,” Sam said. Dean could see him gearing up for some speech about the emotional trauma he must be going through and how Sam was there if he wanted to talk to someone. But if he thought about it, it would only make him feel worse than he already did.

So he cut him off. “I was actually wondering why you weren’t into either of them.”

“Becky and Zach?” Sam twisted around on the bench seat to look at him with raised eyebrows. “They’re my friends. Why would I—”

Rolling his eyes, Dean made a spastic gesture with his hands. “Oh, come on! Both of them are into you. And it’s not like you’re limited, in terms of sexuality. They were good looking. I would’ve at least banged her.”

Sam’s lips got thinner and thinner the more Dean spoke. “Well, maybe I’m not like you,” he said stiffly, almost primly. “Maybe I don’t believe in ‘banging’ whoever is interested.”

“Sam…” Dean groaned softly and adjusted his hands minutely on the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just trying to understand…” You, he wanted to say, but even thinking it made him feel like Sam was oceans away. 

Face softening a little, Sam sprawled back on his side of the car. He kept his voice quiet and even when he spoke. “I’m not attracted to Zach or Becky. Sexually. They just… aren’t my type.”

“Aren’t your type,” Dean parroted and turned his disbelieving eyes Sam’s way. Sam was smirking at him a little bit, with his head tilted to the side to rest against the leather seat. “But she looked so much like—”

Jess. Yet another word he couldn’t say.

Even with the name hanging in the air between them, Sam didn’t seem all that affected. “Looks aren’t that important to me,” he told Dean, and his gentle voice seemed in opposition to the amused way he was eyeing Dean. “My ‘type’ tends to be more personality based.”

“What, they need to have an IQ yea-high before you’re interested or something?” Dean asked gruffly, staring out at the road and drumming his finger on the wheel to the staccato rhythm of his heart. He tried not to remember how much like him Jess had seemed when she’d told them to take care.

Snorting, Sam shook his head, mussing his hair against the leather. “I said personality, not smarts, Dean.” There was some shifting around as Sam leaned even further back, and then he spoke again. “I might’ve technically been the Alpha in our relationship, but Jess was really the one in charge. She was strong, independent… I knew I could trust her to take care of both of us if I needed to. I liked that. Even though we pretend our society relies less on the old stereotypes nowadays, you can almost never get away from the expectation that, as an Alpha, you’re always going to be strong and commanding. With Jess, it wasn’t like that. I could just be myself.” He paused and emotion seemed to drain away from him. “That’s part of why I was drawn to you, if that’s what you’re really asking about.”

Dean sucked in a quick, shocked breath. It took him a few moments to release it. “Part of?” he repeated weakly, keeping his face equally blank. The only way he could talk about this was if Sam didn’t see how it affected him.

Sam was quiet for so long Dean almost didn’t think he would answer. When he did speak, he was one-part teasing, one-part sad. “You’ve been wondering, haven’t you? Whether you did something, whether you could’ve stopped it, whether you could fix me.” He paused once more and Dean wondered whether Sam was deliberately keeping him in suspense. “You want to know what it is about you in particular.”

“Yes,” Dean choked out and his hands flexed around the wheel convulsively. “Sam, I… I don’t fucking get it. I’m not—”

What humor there had been, dark as it was, had completely fled the car. Sam’s voice was small when he answered. “I can’t give you a good answer. You were the first person I… And every person since, they’re just mirrors of you. Maybe it was the tight spaces, the circumstances, I don’t know. But it’s been years, nearly a decade, and no matter what I do, it doesn’t change. So, I… Whatever it is that makes what I feel for you different, I don’t know.” Sam huffed out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t even tell you when it started. It’s just seems like it’s always been there.” Sam looked at him with his big, hazel eyes, all wide and sad. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

He sounded just like he had when he was eight and Dean had gotten irritated at him for no real reason, other than stress and selfishness. Dean had yelled and yelled, and Sam had apologized, eyes full of tears and lip trembling, even though he didn’t know what he had done wrong.

It made Dean feel even more like a failure than he already did.

He didn’t dare reach over and touch Sam. Not with that hovering over him.. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “You don’t need to apologize, Sammy. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s Sam,” Sam retorted, but he did it with an upwards twitch of his lips. Dean glanced over and was relieved to see that the pleading look in his eyes was gone.

“Whatever, bitch.” He couldn’t quite smile, but he turned on the radio to one of Sam’s stations, which was just as good.

He kept the music low enough so he could hear the soft retort of “Jerk” murmured fondly a few feet over.

 

*

 

They fought.

They fought a lot.

Even when they’d gotten along, back before Sam had popped his knot, they’d still spent about half their time together arguing. It was in both of their natures. Neither of them were easy-going and both of them were Alphas with strong opinions. They didn’t like to back down. So they fought. A lot.

It wasn’t necessarily bad. In fact, Dean enjoyed a lot of their bickering, especially when he had the upper-hand. It was the way he and Sam had always worked, and he liked that. It felt natural. Good.

But the fighting they’d been doing for the past couple of weeks wasn’t the fun kind.

“I don’t get what the fuck your issue with Dad has always been! Ever since you were a kid, I swear. He was an Alpha who’d lost his mate; he was doing the best he could.” Dean threw his clothes into his duffel sloppily, words coming out from between gritted teeth as he packed. He’d started as soon as Dad had hung up, even though his chest was still bruised from the rock salt bullet Sam had shot into his chest.

Sam, on the other hand, was sitting on his bed sullenly, packing about as slowly as humanly possible. “I lost my mate too. And I’ve managed to keep it together pretty well, I’d say. So why am I not allowed to hunt the demon as well? Why is he treating us like we’re still kids he can pacify with half-answers and then leave behind? I’ve lost just as much!”

Those weren’t questions Dean could answer, at least not with something Sam would listen to. All he had were the same lines he’d repeated time and time again, every time Sam had decided that he’d Had Enough. They were worn thin at this point; if he brought them out one more time, Sam might punch through them.

Instead, he pulled his jacket on and glared at Sam. “Last I checked, you and Jess hadn’t mated. So I wouldn’t go comparing your loss to Dad’s so quickly.”

Sam jerked his head up to stare at him, face pale with rage. “She was my mate in everything but name,” he said tightly. “And we were about to make that step, and then she—So don’t you fucking say I can’t understand his loss. If anything, you’re the one that can’t. When did your mate leave?” Sam smiled, all tight and mean. “Oh wait. You’ve never found anyone who actually cares enough to even think about mating you.”

Furious. He was furious. He wanted to hit Sam, wanted to yank his pretty long hair. He wanted to pull Sam over his knee like a disobedient child and smack him until he shut up. “She was your mate, huh?” he asked in a cold, low voice. “Some mate you are. Second she’s dead you go looking to get into my pants—”

“Shut up,” Sam hissed, lurching onto his feet and moving forward.

But Dean had only just gotten started. “You say she’s your mate, but I bet the whole time you were with her, you were fantasizing about me, wishing it was me fucking your ass—”

For the first time Dean could remember, Sam punched him in the face.

Dean stumbled back, mouth hanging open as everything he’d said sank in. He felt a churning in his stomach and reached out towards his little brother, as if that could anchor him. Sam had never seemed so imposing. “Sam, I—”

“I’m going after Dad,” Sam said tonelessly. His eyes were stone. “Are you coming or not?”

Mutely, Dean shook his head. Without another word, Sam walked out the door.

That was the last Dean heard of him for three days. The next time he saw Sam, he was bound to a tree and Sam was cutting him free. Even through the ensuing battle against the pagan god, Dean couldn’t stop grinning. For once, Sam had come back to him.

Watching Emily leave on the bus to Boston, Dean bumped his shoulder against Sam’s affectionately. Sam blinked down at him. He was still a little guarded, a little off-balance. Dean couldn’t stop himself from grinning back, before he faltered and ducked his head. “Look man, what I said a few days ago…” He paused, hoping Sam would stop him. He didn’t. With a sigh, Dean shuffled his feet and continued. “I didn’t mean that shit. You know that, right?”

A warm shoulder rubbed up against his and Dean looked up to see Sam smiling, dimples peeking out. “I know, Dean. It’s okay.” When Dean continued to look at him warily, Sam laughed. “You’ve forgiven me for worse, remember?”

“No. Nothing worse,” Dean countered and bit at the inside of his cheek. “The shit I said about Jess… That was out of line.”

“Yeah. It was,” Sam agreed, but he didn’t sound angry, just a bit tired. “Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean agreed readily. He still couldn’t believe he’d said them in the first place, that he’d allowed that kind of toxin to roll out of him. He’d never had a bad thought about Jess, and hadn’t even been upset with Sam over the revelation of his feelings. But that kind of rage didn’t come from nowhere.

Dean slid into the front seat of the Impala and decided not to think about it anymore.

 

*

 

Of course, right after they finally got that straightened out, Dean nearly got himself killed.

The days in Nebraska passed by in a blur. Dean preferred it that way. When he looked back on his memories of that time, all he could remember was the cold, his own feelings of fragility, and the smell of Sam’s hoodie on his skin.

In the dark, the night after they freed the Reaper, Sam came to sit on Dean’s bed. “Dean?”

Dean moaned under his breath, rolling over to peer at the Sam-shape in the darkness. “I was almost asleep,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “What the fuck d’you want?”

“I need say something,” Sam blurted out, words all jumbled together as they rushed into the air. “I have to tell you something before you go to sleep.”

Dean threw an arm over his eyes. “Oh my god. I swear, you never shut up. Can’t this wait until morning?”

“No!” Sam said sharply, and then drew in a loud breath. “I need to say it now. I’ll be quick. I just… I was glad. To be an Alpha. These past few days, for the first time in my life, I was happy I was an Alpha. Isn’t that funny?”

Dean sighed, blinking heavily a couple of times in an attempt to stay awake. “Yeah, Sam, that’s great. Now—”

“Wait.” Sam’s hand fumbled to grab Dean’s arm in the darkness, his fingers encircling Dean’s wrist. “You know how I told you that I liked that Jess could take care of both of us?” He didn’t wait for Dean’s sleepy response. “I never felt like I could. I knew I was an Alpha, but I never really felt like one. I didn’t feel like I had that sort of strength. Not when I relied on you and Jess so much. But this past week, with you, I was able to… to manage. I… I was able to save you.” He sounded awed. “I never thought I would be able to do anything like that for you.”

Even half-asleep, Dean smiled and patted at Sam’s knee. His aim wasn’t quite true, and his hand landed on Sam’s thigh, but he didn’t really mind. He squeezed the flesh under his hand gently. “Took good care of me, Sammy. ‘M proud of you.” 

Sam laughed a little, and Dean was pretty sure it was to himself. “You’re not supposed to call me Sammy,” he murmured, and Dean could feel his breath on his face.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Sam,” he mumbled, reaching out, only to have Sam slide into his arms and press dry lips against his.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t quite awake. Maybe it was because he’d almost died. Whatever the reason, Dean found himself kissing back. Sam was so sweet against him, lips moving slowly, leisurely, over his. He kissed like it was a caress, like he could go on and on for days. Dean petted at his hair and let out a pleased noise when Sam shifted closer.

When Sam finally pulled back, Dean let out a whimper of protest. “Dean,” Sam said softly, and gently removed his hands. “I don’t think you even realize… Just don’t get weird on me tomorrow, okay? I…”

He didn’t finish. He moved away, his dark shape gliding over to the other bed. Dean kept his eyes on that dark lump until his eyelids fluttered shut and he fell asleep.

 

*

 

Suppression had worked pretty well thus far in Dean’s life. So, he tried to shove the memory of the third kiss into the same box the first and second had gone. He didn’t want to think about it and Sam didn’t want him to be weird about it, so it was win-win for the both of them if he just ignored it. And if Sam sometimes sent him mournful looks, well, there was nothing he could do to make it better.

Because if he thought about it, thought about how nicely Sam had opened up for him, how silky-soft Sam’s hair had been in his hands, then he’d go crazy. He’d go even more crazy if he thought about how he hadn’t resisted once, how he’d pulled Sam closer, how he’d felt— 

Only madness laid that way. So Dean ignored it. Which meant when he got a call from Cassie, he jumped at the chance to see her.

Cassie was a strong girl, a strong Beta. When he’d first met her, she’d reminded him a bit of Sam, so smart and driven. Once upon a time, that’d made him smile. With all the new complications in his relationship with Sam, it just made him feel a bit sick.

Still, when he saw her again, all the feelings he’d harbored for her surged to the surface. All that need and adoration and worship clouded his mind… and he was underwhelmed.

He thought maybe it was just the time. He’d felt distant from Sam too, those first few hours after they reunited. But as he sat by her side and talked to her, his feelings settled into the same thrum they’d beat for the last two years at the thought of her and he was forced to realized that maybe he hadn’t loved her as much as he’d thought. Because the gentle hum of how he felt towards Cassie was nothing compared to the pounding rhythm of his devotion to Sam.

Cassie seemed to slip away, sliding out of his mind even when she was right in front of him. But even though Sam wasn’t with him, he was a solid presence at Dean’s side. And, god, it was driving Dean crazy.

He still wanted her. So he slept with her. It was easy to devour her with his kisses and let her take him to bed. They had sex, good sex, passionate sex. But he didn’t knot her for more than ten minutes, and when he rolled off her afterwards, he didn’t feel satisfied. The same buzz droned under his skin as before.

“Did something happen between you and your brother?” Cassie asked eventually, curled up against his back.

“Why?” he asked blankly, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his voice empty.

Cassie hummed thoughtfully before she answered. “You watch him like you’re worried someone’s going to steal him if you take your eyes off him. Like he’s something to be guarded.” It took her a few seconds to continue, and Dean knew he wasn’t imagining the note of wariness in her voice. “Or something to be treasured.”

“He’s gone through a lot,” Dean told her, without answering any of her questions. She seemed dissatisfied; the journalist in her denied the scoop. She kept shifting against him, but when he didn’t say anything else, she settled down with a sigh.

Treasured. Dean rolled the word around on his tongue. Of course Sam should be treasured. He was Sam, and that word encapsulated everything good and true and warm in Dean’s world. He’d known, even when he was younger, that Sam was special. Sam was so much smarter than him, so much better than him. Of course he should be treasured.

And yet, of all the people in the world Sam could’ve chosen, he’d picked Dean. Sam, brilliant gorgeous Sam, had seen something in Dean worth treasuring as well.

A flush of pure feeling rushed through Dean’s chest, but he pressed it down as he swung his feet to the floor. He didn’t have time for that yet. He had a racist truck to take care of.

“Dean?” Cassie asked, and when he turned back to look at her, she seemed so small, swallowed up by white sheets. A fond smile flitted over his face, and he tucked a strand of hair lovingly behind her ear.

He let his fingers linger on her cheek for a few moments, letting her heat wash over him. “It was good seeing you again, Cassie,” he said softly, and he saw recognition in her eyes.

There was sadness in those eyes as well, as she brought her hand up to cover his. “You too, Dean.”

A moment passed, and then he released her. Walking away, he felt strangely light.

 

*

 

For once in his life, Dean didn’t sit on the feeling for too long. It was too immense to be tamped down for much time at all. Once the racist truck was dealt with, it was all Dean could do to hold it back until they reached a motel a couple states out.

He watched as Sam pulled his layers off, the shape of his body emerging in the warmth of the motel room. There was no doubt Sam was an Alpha; he had an Alpha’s broad shoulders, an Alpha’s firm jaw. There was no way anyone could ever mistake him for a Beta or Omega now. And there was something appealing about that. All that strength and yet Sam was still willing to entrust himself to Dean.

“Dean?” Sam was looking at him with a bemused expression on his face, his eyebrows quirked up. “You back on earth now?”

Chuckling, Dean ran a hand over his face, and then began stripping off his own jacket. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”

There was a twitch of Sam’s lips downwards, and then he turned around, ostensibly to get something from his duffle. But his hands rummaged in his bag without pulling anything out too long for it to be anything but a way to shield his face from view. “Oh? Missing Cassie already?

It was so opposite of the truth that Dean couldn’t help laughing. When Sam spun around, an offended flush high on his cheeks, Dean tried to grin reassuringly at him. “Not so much. I think that’s the last time I’ll see her.” He expected to feel a little more sad, saying it aloud, but his heart didn’t even twinge.

“Well… I’m sorry,” Sam said, ducking his head so his hair masked his expression.

“That is such a bad disguise, dude,” Dean said, not bothering to censor his thoughts and snickering when Sam’s shocked eyes locked on him again. “We both know you aren’t really sorry about it. Hiding your face doesn’t help you any.”

Screwing his features up, Sam crossed his arms stormily. “Sorry for trying to be sympathetic.” He relaxed a little as Dean just laughed again, confusion seeping over his face. “You really aren’t sad about leaving her?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, still surprised himself. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna be okay.” He found himself getting to his feet, his heart thundering in his chest. It was time. “Look…” He swallowed when he found himself standing directly in front of his little brother. Carefully, he brought his hands up to rest on Sam’s chest. Watching in awe, he splayed his fingers wide over the grey material of the shirt. He wasn’t sure Sam was breathing. “I realized… I couldn’t even think about being an Alpha for her, when I already had someone.” He looked up and didn’t hide the blush on his cheeks. “I’m not good at this, but…”

Ever-so-slowly, Sam began to lean down. His hopeful eyes were locked with Dean’s the whole time, up until their lips brushed lightly together. It wasn’t really a kiss. They were just breathing into each other’s mouths.

They stayed like that for a minute. And then Sam smiled against his lips and whispered, “Mate.”

Dean didn’t protest the title.

 

*

 

Sex was something they had to work up to. Because neither of them were really equipped to have sex with the other.

For the first few weeks, there was just a lot of making out. And hand jobs. Which Dean was more than fine with. He’d never felt anything as good as pressing up against Sam’s firm, hot body. And if that made him a deviant, he really didn’t give a shit.

He had a lot of time to get familiar with Sam’s kisses. Because Sam liked to kiss. Really liked to kiss. His technique wasn’t as refined as Dean’s, not honed from years of picking up however many girls he could; he was normally panting, desperate, and a little sloppy. Dean loved how hot it was, Sam all wet-mouthed and needy for him. All it took was a few good minutes of kissing to get Sam writhing against him and pushing his hard-on into Dean’s leg. And honestly? Dean wasn’t much better.

“Can feel your knot,” Sam gasped against his neck one night, with the lights off and the sheets tangled around them. Dean was tugging fiercely at his brother’s nipples as he rutted against his hand. Just messing around with Sam felt like the dirtiest, kinkiest sex he’d ever had.

Demanding his attention, Sam nipped sharply at his skin. “Knot my hand, Dean.” He fumbled under Dean’s boxers, grabbing at his cock. “Come on, wanna feel your big knot in my hand. Want your come all over me. Want it soaking me.” Rocking into Sam’s hand, Dean let out a low moan. His head thrashed from side to side. “Or my ass,” Sam groaned and jerked him faster. “Could shove your knot in my ass. Fill me. Pump me full of you. Make me yours.”

“Fuck!” Dean shouted, as he felt his knot growing from just a dry hand and filthy words. “Mine,” he growled, biting and licking at Sam’s neck, unable to help himself.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Sam chanted, as he brought his other hand down to fully encircle Dean’s knot. “So big in my hands. Want it—want it in me. Please, Dean, please—” He bucked forward, movements jerky with need. “Touch me, touch me now—”

Just that was enough to make Dean come, his little brother pleading and demanding by turn, but he held off, shoving his knee forward in between Sam’s legs. He grabbed onto Sam’s face with his hands, pulling him forward until they could share a messy kiss. “Get off against my leg, c’mon, mount my leg—”

“Gonna mount you, make you mount me—”

“Wanna take you so bad, rut into you—”

“Mount me, fuck me, knot me! Dean, please…”

Dean felt Sam’s knot growing against his leg, getting ready to come practically untouched. He wanted to reach down and feel it, all that arousal just for him, but his own balls were pulling up tight and he was coming under Sam’s inexperienced hands. “Sam,” he moaned and fell forward to bite messily at Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s hands tightened around him, milking him, and Dean shoved his knee up until Sam howled from the pressure.

Then it was Sam’s turn to thrash against him and come, soaking his boxers, Dean’s leg, and the sheets beneath them. His eyes clenched shut under the first wave of ecstasy, but a minute passed and Dean felt him relaxing. Soon enough, those hazy hazel eyes were fluttering open to look at him in adoration.

They were both still coming, and would be for a while, but the flow of come had eased to a gentle pulse. Dean petted Sam’s back through the afterglow, heart humming happily as Sam practically purred in pleasure. In a dreamy sort of way, Sam brought one of his hands up, covered in Dean’s come, and began lazily licking it clean.

“Shit, Sam…” Dean whispered, dick twitching in a preemptive attempt to get hard again. Something primal in him burned hot at his mate’s desire for his come, and his refusal to allow any of it to go to waste.

Sam constantly surprised him that way. As two Alphas, they should’ve been completely sexually incompatible. Submission in bed was incredibly attractive to the animal part of every Alpha; the idea of another Alpha being able to supply that was absurd. But Sam fit Dean better than any of the Omegas or Betas he’d ever picked up in bars. Sam allowed Dean to take the lead, without ceding any of his own power. He demanded things from Dean, and Dean demanded things right back.

So, Dean was pretty content with their sex life, even if they weren’t having any actual sex. He just assumed they never would have sex, because, despite Sam’s rambling while they fooled around, neither of them were equipped to take a knot up the ass.

Therefore, he was pretty surprised when Sam straddled him, the night they left Richardson, and said, “You should fuck me tonight.”

Dean just stared up at him, blinking rapidly. “What the… Sam, is this a prank? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure we only called truce like… two hours ago.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and now the reminder of teenage Sammy made Dean grin instead of flinch. “How the fuck would that be a prank? I want you to knot me, dumbass. I don’t know how to make it much clearer.”

Dean laughed, but his laughter trailed off when he saw Sam’s pinched expression. “Shit,” he said, eyes wide. “You’re serious. You actually want me to…” The idea really hit him and he scrambled to sit up, accidentally knocking Sam off his lap in the process.

“Ow, Dean!” Sam hissed, rolling over on the bed until he was sitting as well. His hair was mussed from his fall, and he had a full-out bitch-face on. “What’re you doing!”

“What’re you doing?” Dean was flailing, his mind working a mile a minute. “You can’t just spring that on a guy out of nowhere! There’s been no talk about, no preparation—”

“Oh my god, Dean!” Sam moved forward and slammed him back onto the mattress, pinning him down with two palms on his chest. “It’s not like it’ll be the first knot I’ve ever taken.”

Everything in Dean locked down and froze. He searched his brother’s face frantically, but there was no sign that Sam wasn’t telling the truth. “You…” he sputtered, then swallowed, irrational betrayal heavy in his gut. “You’ve slept with other Alphas?”

Sam’s eyes popped open wide with shock. “What? No!” His voice was vehement. “How could you even think—”

“You said you’d taken other knots!” Dean accused.

Sam’s cheeks flushed a bright red. “I didn’t say they were real!” Sam shouted.

Everything went quiet.

“What?”

Sam rocked back on his heels, gaze averted and face still pink. “Fake knots. You know. Knotted dildos. Jess used to fuck me with them sometimes, but… Most of the time, I just did it myself. When I was missing you. It made me feel…” Sam cleared his throat and Dean realized he was blushing as well. “Anyhow. That isn’t… I’m just saying, I know I can take it. And I know I want to.”

“Oh.” Dean wasn’t sure whether to be incredibly turned on or angry that anyone else, even a female Beta, had seen Sam vulnerable like that. “But you never…” He paused, gritted his teeth, and continued. “It was just Jess, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed softly. “I’d never be able to trust anyone else. Not like that. Just you.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Dean nodded several times to himself. “Alright. That’s… better.”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Getting possessive? Really, Dean? I’ve only slept with one other person and you’re getting possessive.” Sam smirked a little and ground straight down on Dean’s dick, startling a groan out of him. “Gonna pin me down and knot me, show me who my Alpha really is?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean muttered, and Sam laughed, loudly and joyfully. It took a minute for Dean to remember how to speak. “So, you… you really want to do this. Tonight.”

Planting his hands on Dean’s chest once more, Sam leaned in, eyes twinkling. “Yeah, Dean,” he breathed, and Dean shivered at the pure want in that voice, “I really do.”

With that, Dean snapped.

He rolled them over, hauling Sam’s legs up around his waist. His teeth attached themselves to Sam’s neck and he bit down, hard. Sam gasped, bucking into him. His words were hurried and needy. “Mating bite, promise you’ll give me a mating bite—”

“Give you anything,” Dean growled back, and he was pretty sure the whole world knew he meant it. That he’d meant it since he was four years old, with a little bundle safe in his arms. “Fuck, Sam, I’d do anything.”

There was something almost startled in the way Sam kissed him, as if he was only just realizing how true that was. He wrapped himself around Dean, clinging and grinding, his tongue urgently enticing Dean further. Dean shoved his hands under the fabric of Sam’s shirt, only to find him shivering from the intensity of it. “Should’ve taken these off earlier,” he murmured, mostly to himself, before he tore the shirt off of his brother.

Sam let out one startled cry, before he was scrabbling at Dean’s shirt, tearing at it until it was more holes than fabric. “Off, off, off,” he was saying, hands working furiously. “Why won’t it come off!”

Dean didn’t really care about the fate of his shirt. He had Sam’s smooth, muscled chest to work with. He couldn’t help diving immediately to Sam’s nipples, nipping at them almost as a pup would its mother’s. One of Sam’s hands flew up to clutch the back of his head, forcefully pulling him closer, even as he arched up as well. “Don’t you fucking tease, Dean,” Sam snarled, and when Dean just laughed, Sam flipped them over and grabbed his dick through his jeans.

The moan that Dean let out was downright pornographic as he bucked up into Sam’s hand. Sam just laughed, squeezing lightly before grinding the heel of his palm right against where Dean’s knot was threatening to pop. “No teasing tonight,” Sam demanded, his fingers edging towards the button of Dean’s jeans, “Or I’ll enjoy myself over here without you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” If there was one thing Dean was confident of at this point, it was that Sam got off a million times better when the two of them were together. For that matter, he did too. Dean grabbed his brother’s wrist, holding his hand still as he ground upwards. “You’re gonna get your pants off and then I’m gonna finger your ass until I can hold you down and fuck you.”

“Mmmm…” Sam hummed, trying to be nonchalant, but his pupils were blown wide with arousal. He undid the button of Dean’s pants with an easy flick of his fingers and then dragged his zipper down like he couldn’t wait to get to what was inside. He probably couldn’t. “Who ever said anything about holding me down?”

Dean grabbed his brother’s waist with a playful growl and flipped them so he was on top as he yanked Sam’s jeans down off his long, long legs. “I did,” he said and gave Sam’s cock a few quick strokes before he let his fingers dip down lower, until they were stroking over Sam’s hole.

Dean expected Sam to go rigid with one touch there, but instead he let out a contented noise and seemingly relaxed into it, pushing back against Dean’s finger. Sam’s lips curled into a smug smile as he said, “I put lube in the first drawer of the bedside table.” His smirk grew when Dean didn’t even bother to look for the lube, keeping his eyes on Sam as he pulled the drawer open and fumbled inside.

Luckily, the lube wasn’t hard to find, even without looking. He let out a triumphant cry when he grabbed it and flicked open the lid as soon as it was in front of him. He’d never really used lube; he preferred females or Omega boys who took care of such things themselves. But there was something hot about this too, drizzling the liquid all over his fingers and then coating Sam in it. He wished he could come twice quickly, so that he could use his come to open Sam up instead. But lube would have to do instead.

“I’m pretty sure you have to actually put your finger in,” Sam said huffily, when Dean spent too long tracing the outline of his hole. His voice was faint, though, already far gone with arousal and Dean grinned.

“Like this, you mean?” He asked cheekily as he pushed two fingers into Sam, sucking in a quick breath as those fingers were swallowed by tight, soft heat.

“Oh!” Sam cried, bucking backwards, and then— “You’re supposed to start with one!”

“You complaining?” Licking at the inside of Sam’s thigh, Dean curled his fingers, rubbing against Sam’s inner walls and startled another mewl out of his brother. It was hypnotizing, watching Sam, an Alpha, so thoroughly wrecked by just two fingers. Sam’s chest was shiny with sweat and his mouth was hanging open loosely as he took gasping breaths. “No, I didn’t think so,” Dean murmured, and then allowed a third finger to join the first two.

Sam gasped and squirmed on his fingers, a surprised look permanently glued on his face. “You—I can’t—Wait, please, oh my god—” Pausing for a minute, Dean slid forward to kiss his brother gently until Sam calmed. He blinked rapidly and then visibly relaxed. “Sorry,” he said, pushing back slightly on Dean’s fingers, starting a gentle rocking rhythm. “It was just too much.”

“You can take it,” Dean said, and it was half-reassurance, half-demand. “You’ve taken it before. Can’t be that hard.”

Sam huffed out a laugh and shook his head against the pillow, even as he planted his heels in the mattress so he could fuck back on Dean’s fingers harder. “We’ll see how easy you find it when I fuck you.”

Dean smirked and nipped at the line of Sam’s jaw, curling his fingers and applying pressure until Sam let out a low, steady whine. “You think you can top me, little brother?”

Hands grabbed his ass firmly and Dean let out a shocked hiss. It was Sam’s turn to smirk, even as he panted for breath. “Next time. For now…” He jerked Dean’s hips forwards so that his dick rubbed over Sam’s stomach. He bit down on Sam’s shoulder hard. “You need to get in me.”

“I don’t know.” Dean dipped down to tug at Sam’s nipple with his teeth. “Maybe I like taking my time.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing it’s not all up to you, isn’t it,” Sam said, and before Dean could object, Sam was rolling them over and slamming down onto his cock.

“Fuck!” Dean scrabbled at Sam’s hips, scratching them as he resisted the urge to buck harder into the sudden heat he was enclosed in. It took all he had not to come from the unexpected, hot grip of Sam’s ass. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted and Sam laughed above him.

“Who’s taking it now?” Sam taunted and then he began writhing sinuously on Dean’s dick, sliding up and down on it like there wasn’t anything in the world he could do better. His abs rippled as he swayed up and down, eyes glinting, even in the half-light. “You just sit there, Dean, and let me ride you until I’m good and done.”

Dean gritted his teeth and slammed his head back into the pillow, overtaken by the instinct to pin and knot and breed. “You better get done fast, ‘cause I’m about there already.”

Sam’s voice was breathy but commanding as he grabbed onto Dean’s jaw and forced him to look at the positively sinful body fucking itself onto him. “You’ll be there when I want you to be, and not a moment sooner. When I’m ready, you’re gonna knot me good and pump everything you got into me, but not until I say so—”

Growling, Dean fastened his hands onto Sam’s hips, forcing him to go faster, harder. Sam cried out and then snarled, slamming himself down on Dean’s cock. “Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said, and he didn’t really know what he was saying anymore, just that Sam all cocky and demanding was going to be the death of him. “Fuck yourself on my cock, c’mon Sammy, take it, take my knot—”

“You’re gonna knot me so hard,” Sam moaned and threw his head back, even as his body moved faster and faster. “Knew you would knot me well, knew you would fill me like this. I knew, Dean, I swear, I—”

“Please, Sammy, please,” Dean begged and Sam sank down on his cock one more time before growling, “Do it.”

Dean howled, his back arching off the bed as he let his knot expand, pushing at the inside of Sam’s walls. If he’d thought Sam was tight before, it was nothing like this, nothing like this hot constriction on his dick. He felt snug and warm and tight and perfect and home; and Dean thought that maybe Sam was a genius, because he never would’ve imagined they’d fit like this.

“Oh,” Sam said softly, and then he was coming untouched onto Dean’s stomach, painting him with come as well. His knot was popped and one of Sam’s hands wrapped around it on instinct. Dean batted it away and held Sam’s knot himself, squeezing it tightly as he let himself come, emptying himself into Sam.

Sam gasped and pressed a hand to his stomach. “God, that feels…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but the awe in his eyes made Dean think that maybe taking a turn on the bottom wasn’t a bad idea at all. Swallowing, Sam leaned forward to brush their lips together lightly. “Can we turn on our sides?”

“Sure, yeah.” Dean hurried to maneuver them so they could both lay comfortably, faces just inches apart. Sam’s breath was sweet on his skin. “You aren’t hurt, right? It was all…”

“It was all good.” Sam nuzzled closer, tucking his head into the hollow of Dean’s neck. He paused and then spoke hesitantly. “You called me Sammy. During.”

“Oh.” Dean mentally cursed himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think—I won’t do it again. I’ll try not to call you that as much, it must be weird for you—”

“No,” Sam cut him off firmly and kissed his jugular tenderly. “No, I… I never minded when you called me that. I always liked being your Sammy. Just yours.”

“My Sammy,” Dean said, almost bursting with contentment. And if he felt Sam shiver against him with pleasure, well, he wasn’t going to say anything.


End file.
